


Man in the Box

by Emerald_Ashes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, Some angst, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 04:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Ashes/pseuds/Emerald_Ashes
Summary: The castle was quite vast, and had a lot of large spaces. But this part Lance couldn’t stand. The storeroom was just small.It was no secret that he wasn’t a fan of tight spaces. Dark. Enclosed. Cramped. He hated it all.Or: A day of chores ends rather badly for Lance.





	Man in the Box

Lance didn’t really enjoy doing chores. No person really did…well, maybe there were people who found comfort in the cleaning, but Lance wasn’t that type of person. Especially when he just spent the day on bathroom duty for the entire castle.

Even though they were defenders of the universe, they were still only a crew of seven. So everyone had to pitch in when they weren’t training or fighting or sleeping. Hunk had created a chore wheel or sorts, to keep things fair, and Lance got the unlucky spin to spend the day with his hands soaked in cleaner and toilet water. Thank goodness for rubber gloves.

Fortunately, everyone on the ship was pretty tidy. Although Pidge and Keith tended to shed like dogs.

He had just finished up the last bathroom and gathered up his supplies to place back in the storeroom. It was a tiny little janitorial closet that Coran had pointed out some time ago. It held an odd assortment or cleansers, sponges, weird mop-like things…and he _hated_ going into that room.

The castle was quite vast, and had a lot of large spaces. But this part Lance couldn’t stand. The storeroom was just small.  

It was no secret that he wasn’t a fan of tight spaces.

Dark. Enclosed. Cramped.

He hated it all. Although, it didn’t use to be that way. No. He wouldn’t make a very good pilot if he was afraid of a fighter plane cockpit, right? Or be a decent astronaut for that matter. But he still managed to end up in a space.  In a large, magic castle-ship. And that’s kind of where the problem started.

The day the ship’s systems went haywire and were out to get him all because there was a freaking ghost in the machine! Literally.

First, it trapped him in a cryopod, and he could see but couldn’t move. He couldn’t yell for help. Couldn’t really breathe as the frost started to settle in his lungs. Or move his arms or legs. No matter how hard he tried or struggled, he was utterly stuck. There was only cold and small and dark. It was terrifying.

It still haunted him. If it hadn’t been for Coran, he might not have been found in a timely manner. He didn’t know if he would have survived or not, but at the time it didn’t feel like he would.

And then, on top of it all, moments later he was practically launched out of the airlock into deep space. Lance could sometimes still feel the sucking whirlwind around him, pulling him down. And there was no surviving that. Not in street clothes.

So now he tried to stay away from that kind of thing. His teammates knew of his aversion to small spaces. He’d take the stairs versus the elevator on off days. The zip line tunnel was not really exciting anymore. Sometimes even his own bedroom started to feel stifling when they hadn’t been planet-side for a while.

He could still fly without any issues, though. Mostly because of Blue’s reassurances and he could almost always see outside. Her cockpit didn’t feel confining. And for that he was thankful.

Some things bothered him, and others didn’t. That’s usually how these things tended to work. Lance wished he could just get over it. Not be so scared. But it was certainly easier said than done.

Now he had to face the dreaded, windowless storeroom. You’d think he’d be used to it by now. He usually had to venture into it at least once a week. Lance never really mentioned his distaste for the room. It was usually something he could get past most of the time. And it was kind of embarrassing to say he was afraid of a closet. Most of the time he just had to distract himself.

Often, his distraction was music. He would wear his headphones while working; the music playing loud enough to block out any immediate sound. But still able to hear the blaring emergency alarm if it were to go off.

As the rhythm beat through his headphones, he hastily put away his cleaning supplies. The door to the hallway was left wide open behind him for an easy escape.

A muffled voice carried over his music and the lights flickered above him. He quickly snatched off his headphones to listen.

“For the next half varga or so…” Coran’s voice said over the intercom. “All non-essential systems will be rebooted. Don’t worry the artificial gravity will remain on. So I suggest moving to a location you don’t want to be stuck in for the next bit.”

Stuck? Why would he be stuck? Oh crap!

“Lance?” someone called him from the doorway. He whirled around and saw Keith, supplies of his own in hand. He was about to say something more but then the distinct sound of power starting to shut down whirred through the ship. The lights dimmed again, and Lance lunged for the door, just as Keith stepped inside. Then the door slid shut with a click.

“No. No. Aw, man. Come on.” Lance tried to pry the door open at the seam, but he fingers just futilely slipped off.

“Keith! Look…look what you did!”

“Me?” Keith asked incredulously. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You blocked the exit!” Lance hissed. He turned around to face Keith. “W-we have to get out.”

“I didn’t think the door would close so soon after the announcement,” Keith defended. “Coran said it would only be half an hour. He and Pidge are messing with the teladuv again. Just sit tight.”

And then the lights cut out. Only a dim blue lining the baseboards of the room kept them from plunging into complete darkness.

That didn’t help much. The room felt tighter now. Lance wanted to scream. His breath bubbled in his throat, trapped. He slammed his fist into the door, pounding. Rationally, he knew it would do nothing. But he had to do something.

Keith milled about, putting his supplies back on the shelves. Seemingly unworried, and not noticing how truly distressed Lance was.

“It’s not going to open, no matter how hard you hit it,” Keith said mildly.

Lance didn’t care. He smacked it again. The side of his fist throbbed in pain from the force. “No. No. No.” Lance moaned.

He slid down to his knees, as his body started to tremble. Legs becoming gelatinous and unable to hold his weight any longer. Nausea swelled in his stomach. He sucked in a deep breath trying to quell his rapidly raging fear.  

“Hey,” he heard Keith shuffle about, and then a hand was weighing too warm and heavy against his back. “This room is bothering you?” he was concerned.

Lance clenched his eyes shut, but the darkness behind his eyelids wasn’t any more comforting than that of the room. It was suffocating and hot, and Keith’s hand felt like a burning coal trying to eat its way through his shirt.

“D-don’t touch me,” Lance ground out. “P-please.”

Keith pulled his hand away, but Lance knew he was still behind him. Too close. Too close. Everything was all too small, and tiny. He hadn’t felt like this in a long while. But now he was back trapped in the airlock, moments from death. He… he had to get out, or he was going to die.

It already felt like all of the oxygen was dissipating from the room. And rather than the frigid claws of space, the room was sweltering. He tried to control his breathing, but he was spiraling further out of control.

He couldn’t breathe. He was gasping for breath. The hot coal that rested at his back made its way to the pit of his stomach, churning acid dangerously within him.

He felt sick and breathless and hopeless. Unwilling tears came to his eyes, mixing with the sweat that had collected on his skin too.  

“Let me out,” Lance whined pitifully at the door, he numbly hit it once more.

“Lance, it will be okay. Just calm down,” Keith attempted to soothe him. “Come on. It’s gonna be fine.”

Couldn’t he see that it wasn’t okay, though? Far from it. Lance just shook his head.

“Here, just look at me.” Keith gingerly touched his shoulder. And then brought up his other hand up. He forcibly turned Lance away from the door, so that his back was to it, and he was sitting up against it instead. The motion made everything waver around him. Lance could see Keith’s concern etched onto his face through blurry vision.

Seeing Keith in full view didn’t really help. Lance was hyperventilating now. Oxygen was not making its way into his lungs, and his stomach was threatening to rebel more and more.

_Oh no_.

Lance scrabbled for where he knew he had just placed a bucket, and the hot acid in his stomach crawled up his throat. He lurched over it and retched. Which only made things worse. He felt as though he were suffocating, and the panic was starting to consume him.

Lance could tell Keith was trying to help him. His hand was on his back again, rubbing light circles into it as Lance continued to be sick.

The bout of illness ended, and Lance spat into the bucket. Keith pulled it away from him and moved over to the utility sink in the corner. Lance collapsed forward, forearms on the ground, and his head resting on top of them.

He still couldn’t breathe. And when he blinked he could see white spots encroaching on his sight. It only served to make the space around him feel more minuscule.

He felt wrung out. All twisted up and wrong. He was sobbing now. His head hurt, and his stomach muscles ached from puking so violently. He was too hot.

A cool, damp cloth was placed at the back of his neck. It sent a shiver down Lance’s spine. A momentary reprieve from the hell he was currently facing.

“Lance, you doing okay?” Keith asked. His voice sounded distant.

Lance only choked out a sob in response.

“Okay…I figured as much. I know this sucks. The door will be open any minute, all right?”

It was supposed to be reassuring, but even that felt like a lie to Lance. He rolled his head to try and get a glimpse of Keith. The motion made his whole world tilt precariously on its axis. Specks of white flared and gray starbursts clustered into his vision, too.

Keith was washed away from his sight by a sea of black and white. He felt his body lurch to the side, falling over onto the floor completely. Keith cried out his name and grasped onto his shoulders. But it wasn’t enough to tether Lance down.

Heat flashed over his skin and crept up his neck. His hearing was drowned in rushing white noise, and he was swept away into absolute darkness.

* * *

The first thing Lance became aware of was something cold sitting on his forehead. It was almost icy, but in a good way. A moment later a headache pulsed in his temples uncomfortably. He was laying down on something soft, rather than the metal floor he had last been conscious of.

He cracked his eyes open and found he was in his room. The lights dimmed low, but still bright enough to see. Keith was sitting in a chair he must have dragged into the bedroom, arms crossed and chin pressed to his chest, seemingly asleep.

So, obviously, Lance had panicked and passed out. Wonderful.

“Keith?” Lance called. His throat hurt a bit, and he knew why. He really needed some water.

Keith stirred and blinked at Lance. “Oh. You’re up.” He said groggily. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Thirsty. Kind of sticky. And a killer headache.” Lance listed off.  He noticed he really could use a shower. He had been sweating a lot apparently.

Keith leaned forward and reached underneath his chair. When he sat up again, he produced a bottle of pills and a pouch of water.

“Shiro said you’d probably wake up with a headache,” Keith passed the water over to Lance and shook out some pills for him to take.

“Oh, thank you.” Lance popped the pills into his mouth and then a few sips of water.

Keith placed the bottle back down on the floor. “Are you okay now? You… you really scared me. Once you passed out, and I couldn’t get you to wake up again. And I thought something terrible had happened. When the power came back on, Shiro happened to be walking by. He helped me get you back here.”

“Oh wow.” Lance replied. “I think I’m okay now. Or I will be. Might need another nap. I’m pretty tired.”

Keith nodded, looking relieved. “Coran feels pretty bad about the whole thing. He didn’t think the power would cycle off so quickly after he made the announcement.”

“Oh. Not his fault. I’ll talk to him about it later.”

“I… didn’t realize your fear was so bad,” Keith spoke tentatively. “I mean I get it, really. I know what you went through. I guess I just never saw just how bad it could get.”

Lance sighed. “Sorry, you had to see me like that. All rational thought just kind of went out the window once that door shut, and all I could think about was escaping. Even though nothing would happen, I felt like maybe I was going to die again.” Lance let out a shaky breath. “Sorry. Guess I was a real mess.”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do to help you.”

“I think you helped me plenty. Thanks for sticking around,” Lance smiled at Keith. He could feel his eyes drooping shut as he spoke.

Keith smiled back, having also noticed, and stood up. “I’ll go let the others know you’re okay. You get some rest. We’ll stop by later to check in, all right?”

“Yeah, thanks” Lance muttered. He flopped back against his pillow, exhausted. He happily closed his eyes as Keith exited his room.

**Author's Note:**

> So originally this prompt was sent to taylor-tut on tumblr, but she said I could write and so here it is (story is also posted on my tumblr). I hope it turned out okay. I know I've written something dealing with Lance and Claustrophobia before, but I think this one is slightly more in depth and better (maybe?). I know there are some things that can be expanded upon. But I'm going to leave it as it is. 
> 
> Also, sorry for the summary. Lol sometimes I just can't find an adequate way to describe what the short story is about without giving everything away.


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